


To Wish Impossible Things

by FujoRequiem



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Introspection, Lost Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 17:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22935286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujoRequiem/pseuds/FujoRequiem
Summary: The Doctor is left alone with his thoughts after leaving Rose in the alternate dimension and Donna at her home with no remaining memories of their adventures. A short series of stories addressing things the Doctor wants but thinks he can't have.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. The Doctor's Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on the Live Journal community "Time and Chips" in July 2008. Some friends on Discord asked me to share them, even though I never finished writing all of the series I'd planned. Since as a series it's unfinished, there are two chapters exploring the Doctor's inner thoughts, though they don't follow any particular plot structure. Read if you don't mind wandering around in his mind a bit, without a destination.
> 
> This was written as a catharsis fic for the ending of season 4. I felt the two Doctors and Rose didn't have enough resolution; as an audience we didn't get enough closure on their feelings about the whole thing (rushed!) and I think that's what made it so hard. I had read several great Ten II/Rose fics addressing the issue, but I hadn't seen much in the way of Lonely!Ten, so I wrote this one for him.

Rain-soaked and weary, the Doctor left the Noble family for the last time. As he removed his wet jacket, his mind was swirling with the internal struggle of emotions and logic… so many threads in his head. So much had happened. He looked around the darkened console room of the TARDIS, lit only by the green light of the glowing center column and the few lights that had survived the damage. It seemed to him that only moments before it had been bustling with his beloved companions saving the world together; his family, Sarah Jane had said. Yes, to a point, but of course he knew better. A "family" that all had families of their own. It was always the way of things, the Doctor in his TARDIS, adventures in time and space. Everything passes but he lives on. However, it didn't make it any easier each time, especially this time.

As he watched the central column rise and fall, he thought of her. _Rose_. A twinge of guilt surged through him for forcing his decisions upon her again. She had tried relentlessly to find him – ripping open the fabric of time and space for him. She was brilliant before, but oh how much she had grown. She was more brilliant than a million suns.

The Doctor knew what he did was the only way. He hated leaving her on that cursed beach again, without a proper goodbye or the words she had wanted to hear so much from him. The words he had wanted so much to say. He had wanted her to find him. He had let such hope well up inside him after Donna uttered the words "Bad Wolf..." And then he saw her again for the first time in what felt like ages – the one thing he wanted more than anything in the universe.

He had to convince himself what had to be done. His other self was an anomaly and one he saw as born full of blood, anger and revenge; possibly dangerous, unstable. _He_ needed Rose. Rose had healed him more than once, her name had also kept him fighting. It kept him so very alive, though the years without her had been some of his hardest. He was so much better because of her. He wanted to spend the rest of her life with her. But, despite their shared memories and experiences, he felt this version was more likely to make rash decisions, more likely to let his emotions take over. More... human. The Doctor knew that good and bad, this other self had always been a part of him. A human part of him that he just couldn't free, even for Rose. He'd come so close so many times... but he never felt he deserved those feelings, anyway. He would never be human and never be what a human needed. This new self could be so much more for her, and could have the one adventure he could never have. They could be together "forever" as only humans can. Despite the fears he had about his other self, he trusted him to take every care with Rose he ever would and express every feeling he never could.

He looked up as he recalled those words – those three precious words. He couldn't say them. Again. His hearts could have burst from pain when he was robbed of the chance the first time, knowing his own hesitance had cost him precious time with her. He never thought he’d have the chance to finish that sentence. But once he was with her again, things had gone so very wrong. He knew then it was impossible. His words would complicate things. He had to leave Rose and his other self in the care of each other, and he knew from experience Rose would need to be assured that the other Doctor was just as much The Doctor as he was. Rose knew how he felt about her; he knew she did. He didn't have to tell her that. But she still needed to hear those words, as any human would. His other self could unequivocally give himself to her. He could love her, kiss her, protect her and say those words without the curse of an immortal life—to watch all he loves wither and die—slowly eating away at him. This version of himself was free of the Time Lord's burden.

The Doctor never thought he would be so jealous of himself as he was when Rose grabbed his other's lapels for the intimacy he had wanted for himself. He thought it best to leave then. Quick like a bandage, it would hurt him less and he never was one for long goodbyes. He was so glad to give her a piece of himself she could never have if he stayed with her, but it pained him to his core that _he_ couldn't be with her. What was worse, he would never know the life they shared. Their dreams and their adventures would not be his. To want them was to wish impossible things. But he gave her the best life he could, because his love for her made sure that her happiness always superseded his own. Rose had touched his life in a way nobody else could. She would always be a part of him.

There was no time to mourn his second loss of Rose. Donna was dying and he had to take away everything they had ever shared to save her. Everything, he knew, that had made Donna begin to shine as bright as all the stars in the sky. She was brilliant, he knew it so well, but she never did. Being with him had changed her, made her better. She didn't want to leave him. Donna Noble was his best friend; she had saved his life. He swallowed hard as he remembered how she had begged not to go back to her old life. All the adventures he recalled as he sealed her memories away stung with bittersweet chills. Her last cries rang in his ears. He abruptly stopped this train of thought. He had saved her – she was brilliant to begin with and her mum and Wilf would watch over her. She would be safe, he told himself. She would be brilliant without him.

Lost in thought, the Doctor walked slowly around the console pressing the buttons just as his friends had done only hours ago to pilot the TARDIS as they saved the world together. Dalek Caan had called them his "Children of Time." The family he could never _really_ have, he thought. Sarah Jane and Dalek Caan had been right in that each and everyone of them were _like_ family, they had a special place in his hearts. He would do absolutely anything to protect them, just as a father would. The Doctor thought of his previous experiences with fatherhood. He was painfully reminded that everything passes and always will. But many of his adopted family were still out there, with their own families, but so very much alive—brilliant, beautiful humans with conviction and love in their hearts – fighting to save the universe as best they knew how.

The Doctor leaned forward on the console, staring into space. Davros had accused him of turning these "ordinary people" into weapons. He taunted him with the deaths of those who had tried to protect him and dared to trust him. "The Destroyer of Worlds." Those words – the truth he tried so hard to deny – bored deep into his soul. Davros didn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but his words had rubbed so many old wounds. He tried to convince himself that those people were out there fighting to help, to make a difference. But even their good intentions could turn sour. He feared that just like him, they had become so willing to murder in the name of justice. Just what sort of example had he really been? Then his other self wiped out every last Dalek (again), without remorse. He couldn't escape death at his hands. Were the lives he had saved – the lives he had tried to make better, the very purpose for which he took his name – were they worth the lives he lost? How many lives had he complicated? How many lives had he hurt? How many lives had he lost? It was truly a doctor's dilemma.


	2. Time Out from the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still grieving separating (again), The Doctor reminisces on life with Rose in the TARDIS.

The Doctor solemnly flipped switches and turned dials set the TARDIS on an unspecified course. He'd had enough of Earth for a while. He didn't want to go anywhere but he didn't want to be there, either, with so many things to remind him of everything that had transpired. An undisturbed trip to an isolated and nondescript star system would allow him some down time. He didn't usually care to be alone for long. In fact, his thoughts were the last thing with which he liked to be left.

The TARDIS lurched as it entered the vortex. The Doctor's still-soggy hair whipped at his forehead as his body adjusted to counter balance the TARDIS' erratic movement. Once she had stabilized in the outskirts of a remote galaxy, he thought he didn't rather like feeling like drowned rat. A hot bath and a warm cup of tea might be in good order.

As he walked the long halls toward his bath he began to recall familiar feelings. The TARDIS, even in it's near infinite interior, never felt as empty when he had company as it did when he found himself alone. Nor did it seem as eerily quiet. Somehow it felt more empty this time. He felt the echos of years past as if he heard them yesterday. There were Donna's frequent calls down the hall, chiding him about how the TARDIS kitchen cupboards were constantly misplacing her favorite teacup. Martha's frustrated yells when she got lost trying to get from the library to her room on more than one occasion. Then he remembered that time he accidentally walked in on Rose's bath when looking for his own. He remembered the welt on his temple from the bar of soap she chucked at his head and the colourful words she shouted as he ran out. He smiled sweetly to himself as he recalled the fierceness of her voice – sometimes monsters and aliens were less frightening than Rose on the warpath. She had a streak of her mother she'd never care to admit.

As he touched the slender, organic brass handle, he was overcome with a memory. He recalled how and why he had changed his bath's door handle to this unique design...

The TARDIS interior was hard enough to navigate as it was, but ever since its first trip to the parallel world, the dimensional coordination of the doors and cabinets would change every once in a while. Problem was, all the doors looked the same and they wouldn't know when the space had moved until they opened one and saw the wrong room within. Something had was dodgy with the mapping between the doors and the space they contained. Thankfully the front doors never had a problem, same TARDIS console room every time, still bigger on the inside. But where personal spaces were concerned, it had proved embarrassing on a number of occasions. It wasn't something the Doctor could ever get fixed quite right. However, he secretly felt things were more interesting that way. Never a dull moment.

Rose didn't agree. She'd vehemently insisted on him doing something to patch the issue. One day she'd turned up with art nouveau-style, turn-of-the-20th century pieces in order to distinguish his rooms from the others. They didn't know whether the handles would follow the space they contained, but she'd seen something similar in a film and suggested it to him. The Doctor thought they appeared rather expensive, and he wondered where she'd got the money for them or when she'd acquired them. As a gift from Rose, they could have been made of tin foil and he would have thought them most beautiful things in the world.

Just after, she'd turned in for a lengthy sleep as humans tended to do. The Doctor, fidgety and bored, popped off to the middle ages for a quick trip. A few gold coins and a quick flash of his psychic paper to the local smithy and he'd procured two pewter handles, finely crafted to his explicit instructions to include swirls with a rose motif in the center. A large tip and a faux royal order put the odd request out of question and ensured they were completed with enough time for the Doctor to get back to the TARDIS before Rose woke up.

He came bounding into the console room just as she was wandering out of the hall in pink and yellow striped pajamas, her hair an untidy swirl of blonde around her sleepy face. She gave him a suspicious look and mumbled he'd probably been off having fun without her. He flashed a smile and assured her he'd never dream of doing such a thing and began to dart around the console to set a new course. She sauntered off for breakfast in a half-awake stupor; had she been more awake, he'd probably have had much more of an ear-full. Rose was never one for mornings, the Doctor mused. While she was distracted by her nutritional needs, he slipped off down the hall to fix their doors. It took him some time to find all the rooms, but eventually he successfully replaced the boring old knobs with the new ones.

Rose came down the hall just as he was fixing up her bedroom door.She started to remark how the Doctor was a pervert, trying to break into girl's rooms. He stood up straight, brandished his sonic screw driver as he tucked it into his pocket and moved away from the door. Once she saw what he'd been doing, she beamed brightly at him.  
  
...

Shaking off a chill, the Doctor realized he was still standing at the door of his own bathroom, staring at his own right hand on the handle. He'd lost himself in the memory – as real as if he'd gone back to relive it – the minute he touched the handle. His right hand... the hand whose predecessor had generated the other him. After leaving them so abruptly on that beach, he hoped Rose would be able to smile for his other self like she did for him; the smile that made all seem right with the world, even as the worlds came down around them. His double would need that, especially now, being grounded to a parallel earth while he attempted to grow another TARDIS. At least he was able to give them that much. It would take time, but eventually the two would be able to travel together again, using the coral he'd left with his other self. He had to sacrifice his own feelings for the sake of Rose's future, and for the sake of himself in human form. Though he tried to deny it, he needed... wanted... her with himself just as much.

The Doctor opened the door to his bath. Oddly enough, Rose's plan had always worked. Without fail, the Doctor and Rose always found their proper rooms behind their door handles. However, the only handles that stayed working were the ones for his and her own personal rooms. He'd tried it later with Donna and Martha but the configurations didn't stick. The Doctor suspected the TARDIS had a bias toward Rose after the Bad Wolf incident, but this sealed it. At least Martha and Donna couldn't come bounding in on _him_ by accident. Truthfully he wouldn't have minded Rose mistakenly wandering into his bath...

He walked slowly into the room, feeling exhausted – mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. He balked at himself, feeling like an old man who needed a rest. He rarely needed a even wink of sleep. The Doctor thought what he really needed was to move forward with more thrilling adventures, helping people and saving the universe. This was his usual way of trying to redeem his past while simultaneously escaping it. But this time, the cumulative effects of repeated love lost had left him emptier than ever. All he'd had the hope to wish – a personal, selfish hope he shouldn't have been a fool enough to allow himself to have in the first place – had gone away for a second time and he needed some time alone to sort it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never published this chapter on Live Journal, but I found an old draft in my archives and touched it up. Though I'm probably too deep into Jojo brainrot these days to go back and finish this series, I hope you enjoyed what exists. Somehow it felt sad to let the work languish on old backups and a LJ nobody reads.


End file.
